


Burn All Afternoon

by allouette



Category: The Voice RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allouette/pseuds/allouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're so good at this."</p><p>"Yeah, I am," Blake agrees, pausing for a beat before he adds, "What, exactly, am I good at this time?"</p><p>"Doin' a whole lotta nothin'."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn All Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> For Bubbles, as always.

Sometimes, Adam thinks, sometimes Blake can really be a genius. And it's kind of sad how often that gets overlooked because of how much Blake is… well, _Blake_ , really. But he has his moments where Adam truly believes he's the smartest guy in the room and he knows what the hell he's talking about, even though he talks with a twang. He can make more sense without even really trying than most people can with well thought out bullet points and examples and all of those other forms of bullshit that make Adam's head hurt when he has to listen to them. 

The point, though, is that Blake can be a genius when he wants to be. Especially when he calls Adam up out of the blue and says he has decided to do absolutely nothing for the next couple of days because he needs a break before he dies or his head explodes or something else overly dramatic and suggests that Adam joins him if he can tear himself away from all of his rockstar responsibilities. It takes Adam all of about a minute to decide that there's really nothing else in the world he would rather do than say fuck everything else and spend a couple of days with his newest best friend doing god only knows what, especially when it comes to Blake. Adam has learned to expect the unexpected when he's around Blake, and that works best as far as they're both concerned. 

It turns out that doing absolutely nothing ends up being done at Adam's house because Blake always feels trapped at his place in LA, and he hates it more than he can even begin to describe. Especially when he's stuck there alone. So Blake makes himself at home, not that Adam really cares, and they end up outside by the pool looking more ridiculous than should be allowed. 

Blake's lying on his back on the ground by the pool, the legs of his jeans rolled up to his knees as his calves dangle in the water. He has one of his random hats covering his face, the bill bent, frayed around the edges in a few places. And of course, _of course_ , he's wearing one of his stupid plaid shirts with its long sleeves rolled up to his elbows because by god, he can't be normal and wear a t-shirt just once. Adam sits sprawled out in one of the deck chairs and watches him behind dark sunglasses, the legs of his own jeans rolled up in the same way, but at least he has the decency to wear a shirt more suitable for poolside and LA in the spring, a white wife beater that he caught Blake staring at more than once before they settled in their current positions. 

Adam wants to make fun of him, wants to crack some kind of joke, but the bowl they both smoked about half an hour ago is preventing him from forming the words together in his head in a way that would make sense if he said them out loud. So instead he just laughs at the general idea because he knows if he could get it all put together properly, that shit would be funny as hell, specifically because it's Blake and his big ol' country self and that's never not funny. Ever. It doesn't even really dawn on him that he's just sitting there laughing at himself until Blake tips his head back, moves his hat enough to see Adam in a fit.

"What the hell are you laughin' at over there?" Blake asks, his eyes dark and hooded, and there's a lazy smile on his face. There's also a bottle of Bacardi Gold sitting an arm's length away from him, which is also not the least bit surprising. 

"You! And I don't know, there was something funny in my head that I don't even know really. Shut up, man."

Blake laughs at that because oh god, who wouldn't? He's high as a kite and he forgot that the water was cold when he first put his legs in; he was going to move again after that, but oh well, he can't really feel it anymore anyway. So he laughs until he's got tears in his eyes and wipes them away with a rough hand scrubbing over his face.

"Blake!" Adam calls out, scooting toward the edge of his chair. "Hey, Blake. I wanna see your farmer's tan. I know you gotta have one. Don't all you country dudes have one? Isn't that like, your thing? Hey, how come I've seen you with your pants down around your ankles but never without a shirt on?" he asks and barely gets the questions out before he's laughing again, doubled over because wow, when he's stoned, he's just the funniest guy ever, apparently.

Blake sits up a little and twists around enough to throw his hat in Adam's general direction. It hits him around the feet, which is close enough. "Fuck you, asswipe. Ain't you freakishly pale to be a native California boy? Where's your tan at, huh? Cause you don't seem to have one at all from where I'm sittin'."

Adam is still laughing and uses one foot to toss Blake's hat up to his hands, sitting it on his head sideways. It's way too big, but he doesn't care. "I'm just saying, dude. You're too... buttoned up all the time, that's all. You need to loosen up a little, let your hair down, _relax_."

"I need to loosen up and relax? What the hell am I doin' right now?"

"You know what I mean!"

Blake snorts softly and lays back down again, his eyes closed against the sun. "I really don't."

Adam rolls his eyes and pushes himself up to stand, dropping Blake's hat onto his face again before he disappears inside the house. He's back again a couple minutes later and drops down to sit next to Blake, the bowl they smoked out of earlier in his hand, repacked and ready to hit. Blake doesn't move an inch, doesn't acknowledge Adam's presence until he hears the strike of the lighter, then he can't seem to sit up fast enough. He grabs his hat before it falls in the water and slides it backward onto his head, his hair curling out around the sides. Adam passes over the bowl and lighter once he has his lungs full of smoke, holding it in, watching Blake through hooded eyes as he takes his hit. They smoke in silence, passing the glass piece back and forth until all of the herb is gone, then they share a glazed look and a slow, lazy smile that pretty much says it all. Blake grabs his bottle of Bacardi and takes a swig to get the taste out of his mouth before he's lying back again, his head pillowed on his arms.

Adam sits quietly for a few moments, letting the comfortable silence linger, his eyes closed behind his sunglasses. After a minute or two, he feels himself start to sway and shifts around to get more comfortable, stretching out on his back, his head resting on Blake's stomach. He's pretty convinced that Blake has fallen asleep by the general lack of sound or movement and his deep, even breathing, until one of Blake's hands lands on his head, fingers sliding through his spiky hair and resting there.

"You're so good at this."

"Yeah, I am," Blake agrees, pausing for a beat before he adds, "What, exactly, am I good at this time?"

"Doin' a whole lotta nothin'," Adam answers with a slight twang, his Blake voice as he calls it.

"Hell yes. But really only when my batteries are dead. Any other time and I can only do nothin' for so long before I start going a little crazy and coming outta my skin."

"Ha. You're always crazy, Blake," Adam says with a small grin. 

The fingers in his hair tighten slightly, pulling just a little. "Sonofabitch," Blake mutters with his slow drawl.

"You love me."

"Unfortunately."

"Hey, what, no," Adam says, slowly rolling over. He climbs over Blake's body, arms and legs on either side, holding himself up on his hands and knees. The concrete bites into the palms of his hands but not enough to make him care. " _Fortunately_. Very fortunately, Blake. Right? C'mon, say it for me."

Blake's eyes open just enough when he feels Adam suddenly hovering over him, and he can't help but smile at Adam's face being _right there_. "Mm, what am I sayin'?"

"You're saying how fortunate it is that you love and adore me."

"Fortunate for who, though?" Blake asks with a laugh and reaches up, plucking the sunglasses from Adam's face so he doesn't have to keep seeing his own reflection in the lenses. 

"Fuck you, man. For the both of us? I don't know, this conversation is confusing me and you're being difficult. Stop it," Adam replies, leaning in enough to rest his forehead against Blake's. 

Blake huffs out another soft laugh, can't really help it, his hands settling on Adam's hips. "You're kinda adorable when you're stoned, I'll give you that."

Adam's answering grin looks nothing less than pleased and he lowers himself down onto his forearms, the warmth of Blake's body drawing him in. When he presses their mouths together, the kiss is slow with the same air of laziness that matches their current mood. Even when Adam tilts his head to deepen it, tongue sweeping over the roof of Blake's mouth before they mesh together, there's no sense of urgency. Not even when Blake's hands slide into the back pockets of Adam's jeans and Adam flips off Blake's hat to get his fingers in that unruly curly hair that he didn't care to tame since he rolled out of bed this morning. 

They aren't usually like this; things between them are usually hot and heavy, hard and fast, harsh kisses, bruising touches, rough fucks against the closest available surface. They like battling for dominance and getting each other off and driving each other completely fucking crazy in the process. This should probably be a little weird with how far against the norm it is - maybe the weed is keeping the weirdness away - but it's nice, this making out like teenagers, like they have all the time in the world to kill. 

When Adam eases back for air, he licks his lips and watches Blake through heavy, hooded eyes. All Blake does is watch him right back, his gaze lingering on Adam's mouth that's kissed red for a few moments before meeting Adam's eyes. There's a clench in Adam's chest that he immediately dismisses, chooses instead to lean in and press a kiss to Blake's forehead, another to the bridge of his nose, one ridiculous dimple, then the next before finally ending at his lips again. Blake opens for him instantly, large hands sliding up along his back, finding too warm skin underneath the thin cotton of his shirt.

There's something strangely intimate about the way Blake trails his fingers up and down along Adam's spine, shirt bunched up out of the way. It tickles a little, that barely there touch, and makes him shiver despite the heat from the sun overhead and Blake's body beneath him. He twitches and sinks his teeth into Blake's lower lip, earning a slight groan in response. He feels Blake move under him, pulling his legs out of the pool and planting his feet against the warm concrete. He waits for the surge that usually comes, when Blake pushes forward and takes over and Adam finds himself flat on his back somewhere, but that doesn't happen this time. Blake seems content to stay right where he is with Adam's weight resting comfortably against him, lost in the never-ending series of slow kisses that neither of them want to break away from, and Adam is perfectly okay with that. 

If they spend the next two days doing nothing but what they've been doing, he'll be perfectly okay with that, too; he thinks they will be the best two days he has had in more time than he can remember.


End file.
